The Peculiarity Which Was Fujioka Haruhi
by Sallie A. Walker
Summary: Kyouya muses behind his Pineapple laptop about a certain peculiar crossdressing girl. *Haruhi's POV created: Indebted*


Title: The Peculiarity Which Was Fujioka Haruhi

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Genre: Romance/Angst(?)

Description: Kyouya muses behind the Pineapple laptop about a certain peculiar crossdressing girl.

A/N: Woah, I haven't written a fanfiction about HaruhixKyouya in forever o.O. Well, this story was written out of (scratch)a sudden, meaningless urge(/scratch) sudden inspiration of Kyouya's character, which I've been pondering in the past. This short ficlet not only explains his character, but why I think he's suited for Haruhi. God-willing I have the time (scratch)and inspiration(/scratch), I'll write one about Haruhi also. Read, Review, Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran Host Club. Just think, if I did, I can so own all of you guys just for writing fanfictions about my work if I wanted to ;D.

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Peculiar. Very Peculiar.

Kyouya stared at the back of a certain Fujioka Haruhi as she served tea to the customers, while typing away a report on his most recent Pineapple laptop. Although it was apparent to him that this report needed to be completed or the items needed for the next club event (or to be specific, the Indian dancers that Tamaki hired to come, the elephants to be imported from Africa… not to mention musician and accompanying it, a live cobra), Kyouya found himself distracted as the cross-dressing female capturing his attention laughed with the customers over a remark, and brushed back a strand of brown hair.

Fujioka Haruhi was the most peculiar person he knew in this school of rich, but uninteresting and dull people. In being the plain creature that she was, it made her surprisingly of interest to him. For some elusive reason that he couldn't quite catch. And he wouldn't hear the nonsense about 'inner beauty'. No one has that these days. He smirked to himself. In a world of survival, whether it's in grades, or in business, that wasn't possible.

Yet… Kyouya still found himself strangely compelled to her. What was the reason?

His fingers typed away at the keyboard.

…Perhaps it was the way she naturally repelled herself against this world of false glamour and beauty. Perhaps it was how she never judged anyone, or sought to appease. Perhaps it was her efforts and ability in understanding everyone, no matter how flawed, that made her stand out.

Such as the fact that she could tell apart the twins, just by their manner. And… how she knew _him_, just by a simple observation.

He remembered what she said that day at the market expo.

"_Senpai, you purposely act like an egoist, but since you're not, that would be weird, right?"_

It was an eye-opening view, he had to admit. He never thought it that way before. Not just that, but her remark wasn't rude, which he would've overlooked, and not kind, which he would've brushed off. It was straightforward, and Kyouya felt… comfortable with it. For some reason he did not know.

He gazed up from his laptop screen, and watched Haruhi at the other table as she bent her back straight, and flexed her back muscles from what it appears to be slight weariness.

All of a sudden his mind shot to that moment a summer ago at their mansion, in his room, on top of his bed.

All he meant by his actions was to play out a simple strategy… to teach her a lesson not to frighten the poor King that way. Not that he himself was afraid for her in any manner... or was he? The heart-pounding could've been due having to run after Tamaki for all he knew. Anyway...it should've been an easy trick… all women were afraid of being manhandled, much less raped. But instead, she found a way to turn it around and teach 'him' a lesson about himself. A remarkable strategy.

"…_you won't get any merits from sleeping with me."_

And she was right. Not that he actually pondered the matter… but it did make him think a little bit. What was 'true' merit to him? How was she so sure about something he wasn't even sure himself?

She was nothing short of interesting.

What was even more interesting was the way, when they were alone cleaning up the Third Music Room, or standing side by side in the back while the foolishness of the club was taking place, how he seemed to _enjoy_ her company, the chats they shared, the observations they made. He felt… remarkable to say these days with his father's demands, at peace with everything when he was around her. Of course he couldn't say that straight to her face… you never let anyone know your weak spot. She probably didn't feel the same way, and it didn't even matter if she did.

But how he supposed this was because they were alike, and yet so different. She aspired for dreams that were almost beyond her reach—to become a lawyer and coming to Ouran besides her poor background. Kyouya aspired to become the next Ohtori heir, regardless the fact that he was the third son and had absolutely no such right of hoping that would ever happen. And yet, they both strived on, hoping that their dreams would become reality.

At the same time, they were different. She was what the elderly mothers of his father's business friends would call 'a darling thing', who would open doors for old ladies and smile at complete strangers. He was as people saw him, aloof and cold. And yet he fed on her belief of him as a real, tangible human being, who not only cared for others but wanted to be cared for. He fed on her warm reality in this world of cold glamour.

Kyouya remembered when they danced on that night of the Ouran Festival. Her hands were soft in his, her eyes large and luminous, the slight curve of her waist comfortable to the touch. He remembered the days they spent this year in the Third Music Room with the club, talking alone, getting to know more about each other. Which teacher they preferred. If they supported abortion or not. If women really should be guaranteed positions in the government, due to their emotional liability (he had to admit, she made a very good case in that). In their debates and in their time spent together, he felt slowly and irresistibly drawn towards her.

He couldn't help the way he was captivated by her luminous hazelnut eyes. The way his foot tapped as he waited with impatience for her to come in the Third Music Room, and say 'sorry, I'm late'. The moist pink tenderness of her lips. The sound of her laugh--by Kami, it was so mesmerizing. And most of all he couldn't help the way he appreciated her quick wit, her independence, her warm spirit. And yet for all the things he couldn't help, he was just starting to make out something of the peculiarity which was Fujioka Haruhi.

So even though it was perfectly impossible, and very much irrational—Kyouya might, just might—be in love.


End file.
